


Truth and Consequences

by ErinDarroch, JustineGraham



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Original Trilogy
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Romance, Awesome Leia, Awkward Conversations, Commitment, Endor, F/M, Family Issues, Force-Sensitive Leia Organa, HSLO, Happy, Love, Missing Scene, One Shot, POV Leia Organa, Post-RotJ, Post-Star Wars: Return of the Jedi, Romance, Romantic Fluff, Short One Shot, Sweet, Vignette, han/leia - Freeform, hanxleia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-13
Updated: 2016-07-13
Packaged: 2018-07-23 18:40:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,874
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7475544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ErinDarroch/pseuds/ErinDarroch, https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustineGraham/pseuds/JustineGraham
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One day after the victory at Endor, Leia finds that she may have one more battle to fight, and one more loss to bear. Post-<em>RotJ</em> one-shot. Han Solo/Leia Organa. Angst/Romance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Truth and Consequences

**Author's Note:**

> We don’t give a rip about “official canon”. Han and Leia (in this story) do not have the same future as the miserable one depicted in _The Force Awakens._ In other words, there will never be a “Ben Solo” born to them in this universe. This is a Kylo-free zone!

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

For the second time in her life, Leia Organa watched with a sense of deep satisfaction as the ashes of a hated symbol of oppression drifted away into the vacuum of space. Seen from her isolated perch atop one of Endor’s many rocky peaks, the detritus of the second Death Star looked surprisingly beautiful. Just one day after its destruction, some of the particulate remains of the colossal structure were now falling through the atmosphere, reflecting the rays of the fading sun as it dipped low on the horizon, appearing as twinkling points of light strewn throughout the darkening sky. The entire landscape was bathed in deep orange hues now; the high, thin clouds spreading across a sky painted with shades of crimson and pink. It wouldn’t be long before the dark curtain of night descended, and the light from a million stars would appear and obscure what remained of the Emperor’s deadly battle station. Leia drank in the view, knowing it was only a matter of time, of shifting winds and the laws of gravity, before the stunning display would disappear forever—and with it, she hoped, harsh memories of life under Imperial rule.

Her vantage point, situated near the edge of a craggy outcropping that jutted out just above the dense tree line, offered a sweeping panorama of the expansive sky and the stunning wooded landscape of the moon of Endor far below. Han had spotted the patch of exposed hilltop that afternoon, while bringing the _Millennium Falcon_ in to land on one of the tall platforms nestled among the trees, and within an hour had mapped the location and forged a path for them through the tinder and brush. He’d led Leia to the foot of the forest path and pointed the way, with instructions to wait for him at the top while he returned to the _Falcon_ to fetch some “supplies.” Leia wasn’t sure what _supplies_ he had in mind, but she suspected it had something to do with allowing them to hide away for a little while, out of sight from the rest of the Alliance personnel, the Ewok villagers, and even their own friends. 

Leia had complied, though she’d struggled to hide her dismay. She knew that Han’s ambitions were probably amorous—in the days since his rescue from Tatooine, they’d had precious little time alone together, and for much of that time Han had been recovering from hibernation sickness, with little energy left over for anything else. As soon as he’d cleared medical on Zastiga, he’d gone to Rieekan and accepted the long-proffered commission, and they’d been plunged straight back into war. Then, in the aftermath of yesterday’s battle and the subsequent boisterous celebrations, they’d both been too exhausted to do anything more than sleep.

But now it was all over—or, at least, it was as close to being over as it had been since the war had begun. Not only had the Rebels reduced the second Death Star to dust, but they’d taken out Sheev Palpatine himself, the hated Sith lord whose dark ambitions had given rise to the Empire and led to the deaths of millions of sentients throughout the galaxy. Leia’s thoughts returned to the conversations she’d had with Luke, and his account of the Emperor’s demise, flinching as those recollections led her inevitably back to the painful subject of Darth Vader. 

_My father._

The thought made Leia’s stomach lurch and filled her throat with acid bile. She could hardly bear to dwell on the topic in her own mind for more than a few moments without feeling a physical shudder of revulsion. That bitter fact was now inexorably bound together with even more vitriolic memories of her personal encounters with Vader, and all that he’d done to her—or allowed to be done to her under his grim supervision. Han knew most of those details—in fact, he was the only other person alive who knew much at all about what she’d been through aboard the first Death Star. He’d seen the scars left on her body by caustic chemical injections, and he’d been an intimate witness to the frequent nightmares that left her keening and moaning in terror as she slept. The idea of revealing to him that many of those atrocities had been inflicted by her own _father_ made Leia want to vomit. 

As much as she wanted to seal that information away and never speak of it again, she knew she could no longer delay telling Han the truth. She’d never been the type to give in easily to tears, but he’d now seen her cry twice in the past two days and she knew he was both perplexed and worried by her behaviour. It was tempting to try to dismiss those emotional episodes as simply the natural consequence of sheer exhaustion, but she knew Han would see through that excuse and, in any case, she was now well past the point of being dishonest with him about her feelings. 

Still, it _had_ been an extremely long and tiring three days since they’d landed on Endor—days filled with moments of terror that flooded her body with adrenaline, and moments of joy and elation that made her feel as though she were soaring on air. She’d hardly slept at all the night before the battle, too shocked by the news Luke had imparted about their shared parentage, and too worried about his fate as he went off in pursuit of another dangerous confrontation. And Han’s arrival at that juncture had only added to her distress. Even as she’d turned, weeping, to bury herself in his embrace, she’d sensed the confused and jealous tension he’d exuded, but she’d been too stunned and anguished to confide the truth to him right away. 

Later, feeling marginally calmer, she’d been bridled by the knowledge that they had an important mission to accomplish, one that could very well be compromised by her imparting such news on the eve of battle. Although Han had acceded to her wish not to question her further about the fraught conversation with Luke, he’d clearly been discomfited by her silence on the matter. When Leia had finally retreated to their borrowed Ewok hut, he’d joined her in the nest-like bed there—but he hadn’t gathered her into his arms or even touched her until Leia had turned and burrowed into his side, desperate for the comfort of his embrace. He’d held her tightly then, stroking her hair and mumbling soothing words into her ear until she’d fallen into fitful slumber. She’d arisen again only a couple of hours after she’d lain down, though, feeling depleted rather than restored, to face the looming battle. 

Then last night, in the aftermath of their great triumph, with the celebratory bonfires dwindling down and the initial elation of victory beginning to fade, Han had witnessed her tears again, as they’d prepared to crawl back into the Ewoks’ bed for a second time. That episode had certainly been exacerbated by sheer physical and mental exhaustion, but it was her dread of revealing her paternity to Han that had been at the heart of it. Once again, she’d made an inarticulate plea for his forbearance and he’d granted it, nestling her close to his chest and lulling her to sleep with his touch. 

But tonight, she knew, the terrible truth would come out.

Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around her legs and rested her chin on her knees, silently rehearsing the words she would use when he arrived. She felt strangely disconnected from her peaceful surroundings; the sigh of the wind in the trees, the drone of insects and the trill of birdsong were all effectively drowned out by her anxious thoughts over the impending conversation with Han. It was a conversation that had been delayed again this morning, despite her best intentions, because duty had called at sunrise. 

After a scant five or six hours of rest, Leia had awoken first, blinking up at the thatched ceiling in confusion while she tried to remember where she was. Beside her, the warmth of Han’s slumbering form and his rhythmic breathing had reassured her, dissipating her momentary disorientation. An instant later, she’d recalled everything about her conversations with Luke, and she’d begun to practice how she would broach the subject with Han when he awoke. But before she could stir from the cozy bed, she’d felt the vibrations and heard the thump of heavy feet on the wooden deck outside that preceded the distinctive vocalizations of Chewbacca at the door. Though scarcely an hour past sunrise, he’d growled at Han to get moving, saying they’d been tasked by Crix Madine with a reconnaissance mission to the far side of the Endor moon. Waking with a start and scrambling quickly from their borrowed bed, Han had pulled on his clothes and boots, planted a hasty kiss on Leia’s forehead, and headed off to fulfill his duty.

Consequently, they’d spent the day apart. Han’s morning had been devoted to scouting the Imperial outpost and reporting back to Madine on how best to make an assault, while Leia had gone off in search of a shower and a change of clothes, an objective she’d quickly established as fruitless within the confines of the tiny village. Her quest had taken her all the way up to _Home One_ aboard one of the shuttles that were now freely traveling the unimpeded expanse of space between the base and the massive star cruiser, their movements no longer deterred by the threat of interception from hostile forces. The shower had bolstered some of her sagging vitality and, after donning a fresh uniform and plaiting her hair into a simple braid, she’d reported to Mon Mothma. Thereafter, she’d found herself swept up in a series of meetings with the Chandrilan leader, Admiral Ackbar, and other members of the High Command council as they sketched out their immediate plans in the aftermath of victory, and allocated tasks for each of them to carry out in the coming days. Leia’s skills in diplomacy and her closer acquaintance with the Ewok tribe made her the obvious choice for ambassador to the furry natives, so she’d returned to the forest moon to prepare for the pending negotiations. With those arrangements in hand, she now had time to attend to more personal matters. 

“Alone at last, eh, Sweetheart?” Han’s deep voice drifted to Leia’s ears an instant before she heard the distant crunch of his boots on the loose shale that bordered the edge of the forest thirty-five meters away. “I’ve been looking forward to this all day.”

Twisting around on her rocky perch, she raised a hand to shield her eyes from the slanting rays of the late-afternoon sun, and watched as he emerged from the shadows of the tall trees, mounting up the slight slope of rock to the broad, level ledge where she sat. He was dressed in his usual attire, minus the black utility vest, although his clothes looked clean and he’d apparently found time for a quick shower aboard the _Falcon,_ judging by his freshly shaved jaw and damp hair. As he neared Leia’s position, he shrugged a bulging canvas pack off of one shoulder and swung it to rest on the ground at her back, before settling down beside her with a self-satisfied grin. 

“Ain’t this a great spot?” he asked, bumping Leia’s shoulder lightly with his own, and leaning in as if to kiss her. He halted his movements, though, and pulled back when she didn’t meet him halfway. When she drew her legs back up to her chest and resumed her huddled position with her arms wrapped around her knees, Han expelled a heavy sigh and sat back. 

“Alright, Princess,” he said, stretching out his long legs and leaning back on straightened arms beside her. Leia slanted a look at his profile as he squinted against a strong breeze that gusted across the rocky ledge, carrying with it the heavy fragrance of cedar and pine from the dense forest below. “You’ve got something to say and it’s been tearing you up, so let’s hear it.”

Leia eyed him for a moment and then drew a shaky breath past the tightness in her chest, as she summoned the words of the carefully prepared explanation she’d been rehearsing all day. But before she could voice them, Han spoke again. 

“Actually, let me make it easier for you. Why don’t I guess?”

Startled into silence, Leia closed her mouth and stared at him. He swiveled his head in her direction and met her gaze, one side of his face crinkling up in a half-smile. “Because I think I know what this is about.” 

“Han, I don’t think—,” Leia began. 

“It has something to do with your parents,” he asserted, ignoring her weak protest. “Your biological parents, I mean.” 

Although he’d phrased it as a statement of fact, his eyes searched her face for confirmation, and Leia couldn’t hide her surprise—though she couldn’t find the breath to reply, either. Han waited for her tight nod of acknowledgement and then gave a little nod of his own. “I thought so.” 

“Did Luke—? Did he tell you—?” Leia managed to stammer out. 

Han shook his head. “Nope. I haven’t seen Luke all day. But I have been thinking about him.” He sat up and drew his bent knees up to rest his forearms on them in a posture that slightly mirrored Leia’s own. He kept his face angled towards her, though, studying her through narrowed eyes. 

Leia found herself avoiding his steady gaze. A nervous flutter had taken up residence in the pit of her stomach, as the dreaded moment descended upon her. She’d been prepared to spill the story to Han as directly and concisely as possible; she hadn’t expected him to take the lead in the conversation. She stared out over the gently swaying sea of trees below, momentarily at a loss for words. As she groped around for something to say, Han spoke again, his deep voice taking on a more serious tone. 

“Look, Leia, maybe I’m not the wisest man you’ll ever meet, but I like to think I’m pretty observant. And in all the time I’ve known you, I’ve _never_ seen you cry. Not even when you had damn good reason to. Not even in situations that would’ve wrecked anybody else.” 

Leia let him talk, chewing on one corner of her mouth as she allowed her eyes to scan the distant horizon. Although inwardly she berated herself for her own cowardice, it seemed easier to let him speculate for a while than it was to voice the simple truth. 

“The other night, when Luke left, I thought you were crying over _him,_ ” Han continued. “I was afraid you’d—” He cut himself off, gesturing impatiently with one hand. “You know what I was afraid of. And I was sure glad to find out yesterday that he’s your brother, and not a rival.”

“You have no rivals,” Leia asserted quietly. 

When Han didn’t respond right away, she cut her eyes at him and saw him smiling at her. He swiveled on his seat then and reached out to take one of her hands in his, encouraging her to shift around in his direction. “Good,” he said. “Come here.” 

Leia gave a sharp, negative shake of her head and released his hand, though she felt a pang of regret at refusing his touch. Though she faced him more fully now, she wrapped her arms around her shins again, drew her legs tighter against her chest, and gave him an imploring look. “Han, I can’t… We can’t….” She trailed off, then took a deep breath and tried again. “I need to explain...” 

_Gods above, why is it so difficult to spit the words out?_ She was dragging this out, taking too long, doing everything she’d sworn she wouldn’t do. She needed to get this over with. She _had_ to wrench herself up from the pit of dread and despair where her spirits were presently wallowing, and in order to do so she had to reveal the truth she so vehemently despised. 

“You don’t need to explain, Sweetheart. That’s what I’m tellin’ you. I think I know what you’re trying to say.” 

“You couldn’t possibly guess—”

“You cried again last night, Leia,” he interrupted, although his tone was thoughtful, rather than sharp. “I never thought I’d ever see you cry, and then _twice_ in as many days? And both times it was right after you talked to Luke. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out it has something to do with your relationship, the fact that you’re brother and sister. Hell, _twins!_ ” Han shook his head. “Every time I think about that, it blows my mind and makes perfect sense at the same time.” 

Leia couldn’t help but give a wan smile at that exclamation. She felt the same way, as if the missing piece of a puzzle had dropped neatly into place the instant Luke had said the word “sister” to her, in a moment that had simultaneously explained her life up to that point, and forever changed it. 

“And I know you love Luke. Like a _brother,_ ” he emphasized, in a tone of deep gratitude. “And you two never fight. So it made no sense to me that talking to him would upset you, unless he was telling you something about the rest of your family. Something bad.” Han’s voice lost the speculative tone and grew more confident as he watched Leia’s face, judging by her expression whether he was hitting close to the mark. “Then, last night, after you two had another little chat, you looked like you were going to be sick, or pass out. And now you’re sitting up here, eating yourself alive, trying to work up the courage to tell me something you think I’m not gonna like very much.” Once more, he scanned her face, looking for confirmation. 

The setting sun cast a golden glow over his handsome features and highlighted the bronze tones in his dark hair. In the late-afternoon light, with the Endor forest at his back, his eyes looked greener than she’d ever seen them, and they glinted with the light of speculation. Grateful that he was doing all of the talking and sparing her the necessity of putting the horrible facts into words, Leia merely nodded, tacitly giving permission for him to continue. 

“One thing you’ve never been short on is courage, Sweetheart, so I’m guessing whatever Luke told you about your parents, it’s pretty bad. Worse than bad.” 

Leia gave a choked, bitter little laugh. “Worse than bad,” she echoed. She met his gaze and held it for a moment. “Yes, you could say that.” 

“So you _do_ know who they were? Your parents?” As he spoke, he reached down for a small piece of loose shale at his side, and idly scraped it across the bare rock between them, leaving a faint white streak behind. Seemingly pleased with the effect, he drew another line, parallel to the first, keeping his eyes focused on the task, giving Leia time to answer. 

“Not our mother,” Leia answered at length. “We still don’t know who she was.”

“ _Was?_ So your mother is...dead, then?” He cast a glance up at Leia, encouraging her to continue, but returned his attention to scoring geometric patterns on the surface of the rock. 

“We think so. It seems likely.”

“Right.” Han digested that in silence, then stopped his drawing for a moment to look up at her. “But you know who your father is?”

“Was,” Leia corrected him softly, meeting his eyes once more. 

“So...you know his identity, and you know he’s dead,” Han affirmed. 

“Yes,” she drew a shaky breath and released it slowly through pursed lips. “He died...yesterday.” 

“Ah.” Han settled into a pensive silence, absently fidgeting with the thin shard of rock, turning it over and over in his fingers as he seemed to ponder that information. He appeared to Leia to be struggling to choose his words. When he finally did speak, he did so evenly, but with a pointed directness that caught Leia slightly off-guard. “Here’s what gets me about this whole thing, Leia: you seem to be afraid to even say his name. To _me,_ of all people. What are you worried about? You think I’m gonna run off when I find out who your real father was? Do you really think I give a damn about that?”

“You might, Han.” Leia quailed inside at the possibility, but she drew strength from some inner reserve and answered him in as steady a tone as she could muster. “When you know…yes, you might give a damn.”

Han cast the fragment of shale over the brink with an underhand toss, and expelled a sigh of frustration. Turning back to Leia, he reached for one of her hands. She let him take it, noting with curious detachment how warm his grip was around her icy fingers. He gave her hand a little tug and dipped his head down to catch her eye. “Leia, listen to me. You could tell me that your father was Palpatine himself and I still wouldn’t care.”

Leia gripped his fingers and shook her head, wordlessly eliminating that particular possibility, knowing that in doing so she left few remaining candidates for him to consider.

Han held her gaze for a long moment. When he spoke again, his tone was loaded with certainty. “But it’s not quite as bad as Palpatine, is it?”

“Not quite as bad, no,” she whispered. “But nearly.”

Han’s eyes roamed her face for a moment, then he gave a sad shake of his head. “Sweetheart, I know it’s Vader.”

Though she knew he’d been circling nearer and nearer to the truth, that name coming from his lips jolted Leia as sharply as if she’d stuck her finger into an open circuit. Her breath caught and she had to swallow the rising sickness she felt welling in her throat. “Yes.” Jerking her hand from his grip with unintended force, she clenched it into a fist and balled it against her stomach along with her other one, digging her knuckles hard into her own flesh. Though she’d eaten nothing for hours and her stomach was empty, she found herself swallowing repeatedly and dragging shallow breaths through her nose as she fought down the urge to be sick. When she felt she had herself under control once more, she met his gaze again. “How did you—?” A dreadful thought struck her then and she put one trembling hand to her forehead. “Oh, gods. How did you put it together, Han? What if someone else figures it out?” She stared at him wide-eyed, horrified by thoughts of the cataclysmic political consequences that would doubtless ensue if the news ever became public.

Han shook his head and placed a soothing hand on her bent knee. “Don’t worry about that, Sweetheart. No one’s gonna figure it out. I told you, I’m observant.” He squeezed her knee and gave her a wry smile. “And I _know_ you—you and Luke both—better than most. Plus, apart from you two, I’m the only one who has all the pieces of the puzzle. And I’m sure as hell not gonna give any of ‘em away.” 

Calmed somewhat by his reassuring tone, Leia nevertheless needed to know more. She drew away from him slightly to shift her position, crossing her legs beneath her and letting her hands rest loosely in her lap. The lowering sun brought with it cooler evening breezes, and she shivered slightly as a gust of wind blew across the exposed plateau. Drawing a steadying breath, she asked, “What _pieces?_ Tell me.” 

Han nodded his acquiescence; he knew her well enough to understand why she wanted a more complete account of how he’d reached his conclusion. Seeing her settle into a more receptive posture, he seemed to relax a little, too. Reclining back onto one elbow, he reached down with his free hand for another piece of shale, seeming to study its grey and white contours for a moment before he began to speak. “I know I’ve been outta the game for a while, Sweetheart, and I haven’t even been back long enough to catch up with everything that’s going on. And I also know that people change over time. But _Luke…_.” He glanced up at her before continuing. “Boy, Luke has _really_ changed. He’s a completely different person from the kid I said goodbye to on Hoth. What was that, a little over seven months ago?”

Leia nodded. She recognized the truth of Han’s words; she’d witnessed Luke’s transformation almost as it happened, but still she sometimes found his solemn face and haunted eyes unsettling, as if the person looking back at her were a stranger, instead of her cherished friend.

“So, that was one piece of the puzzle,” Han continued. “Then, seeing how upset you were last night, it started me thinking. I’ve been racking my brains about this all day, trying to remember stuff. On Bespin, I remember Lando telling us that we were nothin’ but bait, that Vader was after _Luke,_ not us; then I thought about you telling me that Luke _confronted_ him in Cloud City, and that Vader’s the one who lopped off his hand.” 

Leia nodded again, following the direction of his reasoning. 

“Then I started thinking,” he elaborated, “and this is where I almost got stuck—almost. If Vader had _really_ intended to, he could have killed Luke when he had the chance. Why stop with a hand? Sounds like he was pulling his punches, if you ask me. And then I got to wondering—why the hell did Luke take off to confront him _again,_ instead of staying down here to help us take down the damn shield?” 

Leia considered Han’s words. He was right, so far; very few people would have all the pieces of the puzzle that he was laying out before her now. Indeed, few knew anything at all about what had happened between Luke and Darth Vader in Cloud City. Only Lando, Chewie and Leia herself had witnessed the bloody aftermath of that terrible confrontation, and the two pilots hadn’t pressed for details. Even Leia, sensing that Luke wished to keep that information to himself, had resisted asking for an explanation at the time. She looked back at Han and gave a little nod, encouraging him to continue. 

“But the last little piece of the puzzle for me was the fact that Luke brought Vader’s body back with him yesterday, instead of just leaving him to vaporize along with the rest of the Imps. And then you told me he’d gone to burn him on a damned funeral pyre….” A note of something like exasperation crept into Han’s voice. “I don’t care how good a person you are, Leia, that’s _not_ the kind of thing you do for an enemy, not unless that enemy means something to you. So, adding all that up, I figured Vader must have meant something to Luke, and if he meant something to Luke….” He allowed his voice to trail off, but he raised one eyebrow at Leia, inviting her to finish the story. 

Leia knew there was nothing more that _needed_ to be said. Han had astutely surmised the source of her anguish—he knew the truth—and yet the anxious knot in the pit of her stomach had eased only marginally. It wasn’t enough. She knew she needed to say the words, to hear them from her own lips and in her own voice, before she could begin to accept the facts and shift the weight of her heavy burden. She drew a steadying breath and, summoning all of her courage, finally uttered the simple words she’d been unable to say aloud since the moment Luke had revealed the terrible news. 

“Before he turned to the dark side, Darth Vader was a Jedi knight. His name was Anakin Skywalker. And he was our father.” 

Han’s only immediate response was a slight nod of his head, as her words confirmed the accuracy of his deductions. Still reclining on one elbow, he seemed caught up in his own thoughts, absently turning over the shard of rock in his free hand. As Leia watched, his gaze shifted out over the open expanse of forest and sky at their feet, and he appeared to become lost in silent contemplation. During their conversation the sun had dipped lower on the horizon, and the approaching twilight gave rise to the first sounds of the forest beginning to come alive by night, the high-pitched chirping of nocturnal insects seemingly amplified in the silence that had settled between them. Anxious for Han to speak, yet dreading his response, Leia realized she’d been holding her breath; she released it in a heavy, shuddering sigh that seemed to jolt him back to the present. He dropped the piece of shale and sat up, drawing his legs in as he slowly shook his head.

“Damn, Sweetheart,” he said at length, rubbing one hand across the back of his neck and slanting a troubled look in her direction. “You’re right; that _is_ worse than bad.”

Leia rose suddenly, dislodging loose shards of stone as her feet scrambled for purchase on the rocky ledge. Regaining her balance, she began to retreat from the edge of the precipice without another word, her heart hammering in her chest. Behind her, she heard Han shifting around to follow her movement. 

“Wait, where are you going?”

She spoke over her shoulder as she began stepping down the slight slope of rock at his back. “This has to be a lot for you to process, Han,” she said, striving for an even tone, keeping her eyes downcast to be sure of her footing. “I think...maybe it’s best if I leave you alone. I’ll find you later and we can talk.” 

“What? Come back here!” he insisted, his voice rising in a tone of consternation. 

Leia shook her head and turned away, resolutely putting her back to him as she made her way down the slight slope towards the gap in the nearby tree line and the head of the forest path that would take her back to the village. Whether he agreed with her or not, she knew he needed time to really absorb the news and to consider the implications, and she realized now that he was better off doing that alone. With her stomach in knots, she also recognized her own deep aversion to witnessing the moment—if it came to that—when her hopes and dreams for a future with Han would simply evaporate. Whatever his decision, she had no wish to sit idly by while he deliberated over it.

As she approached the tree line, though, and passed into the shadows cast by the first tall pines, she heard him behind her, just a split-second before she felt his strong hand wrap around her upper arm. She twisted around to face him and placed a hand against his chest. 

“Let me go,” she implored, trying ineffectually to escape his grasp. “Han, stop.” 

“No, _you_ stop,” he responded with heat, though he released his hold on her, allowing her to take a step back. “I don’t need to be alone, much less want to. What the hell are you thinking?” 

“You need time, you need to process—”

“I don’t need to process anything. Listen, Your Highness,” he growled, pointing his index finger at her. “ _You_ need to stop believing everything you think. Because, frankly, what you’re thinking right now is a pile of Bantha shit.”

“Well, you’re not thinking at all,” she snapped in reflex, goaded by his use of the honorific and the faint echo of his old mocking tone. As soon as the words left her mouth, though, she regretted them. The last thing she wanted to do now was to fight with him, but pure anguish overwhelmed her. She tried to step around him, but he edged in front of her, effectively blocking the way. She glared up at him in exasperation. “Oh, just let me _go!”_

“I don’t want to let you go, Leia.” Han’s voice was lower now, and loaded with deeper meaning. “I don’t intend to. You need to hear me out. Don’t run.” 

“I’m not _running._ I just don’t want to sit here and watch while you decide—”

“Decide? Decide _what?_ I made my decision a long time ago, Sweetheart.” 

“That was before you knew anything about _this,_ ” she insisted. “It’s only fair to give yourself time to process—”

 _“Will you stop saying that?”_ Han’s booming voice jolted Leia into silence, and launched a handful of startled birds into the air from the nearby trees. Their noisy clatter faded gradually as they winged their way overhead, and then out over the edge of the distant bluff. 

In the aftermath of Han’s eruption, Leia became acutely aware of the sounds of her own labored breathing and the rapid, rhythmic _whoosh_ of blood in her ears. Although the temperature was mild, her hands felt painfully cold. She jammed them under her arms, unable to suppress a shiver. Even her legs were trembling, and Leia realized then that she was experiencing a rush of adrenaline, as though the threat to her relationship with Han were a physical danger from which she needed to flee. She glanced around. They were standing just a few steps from the edge of the forest now, under the overhanging branches of the tall trees that edged the rocky plateau. Though the deciduous trees at this level were clearly younger than those at the center of the Ewok village, they were still colossal in size; some of the exposed roots jutting up from the rich soil at their feet reached as high as Leia’s hip. 

Still feeling slightly stunned by Han’s ardent outburst, she looked back at him for a moment, considering her next actions. She could remain, giving in to his evident desire to continue with what she fully anticipated would be a difficult discussion, or she could insist upon making her way back to the village, deferring the inevitable, but affording Han—and herself—a little extra time to put matters in perspective. As she wavered over the decision, Han reached for her, grasped her gently by the shoulders and drew her closer. 

“Don’t leave, Leia,” he murmured, his voice hoarse with emotion. 

Leia gazed up at him for a moment, feeling her heart swell with love, and the faint stirrings of hope that he might be able to maintain his feelings for her, too, in spite of everything. She wanted so desperately to hear him say that it didn’t matter, that he didn’t care who her father was, that nothing would change between them. Reading his expression, she realized with a sense of relief that, indeed, those were the sentiments he _wished_ to convey. But, despite longing to hear him put those feelings into words, her innate rationality re-asserted itself. She wasn’t convinced that he _could_ give such assurances so swiftly, not with any certainty, and not without taking the time to think of all of the ramifications. She hadn’t even considered every aspect of the issue _herself_ yet, and—.

 _“Stop.”_ Han’s sharp voice interrupted her thoughts and the line of his jaw took on a hard edge. His hands gripped her shoulders a bit tighter and he held her gaze. “Just...stop thinking for a second and listen. I don’t know exactly what’s going on in your head, Sweetheart, but I can tell you what’s going on in mine.”

“You haven’t even had time—”

“I told you, I’ve been thinking about this all day. And I’ve got a pretty fast _processor,_ ” he informed her dryly. When she didn’t respond right away, he drew a deep breath and expelled it slowly, easing his grip on her shoulders and turning it into a caress as he drew his hands down the length of her upper arms. “Look, Leia. There are two separate issues here, as far as I can see, and you seem to be confusing them.” 

Leia waited, staring up at him. The sun at her back slanted under the trees, casting a bronze glow over his tanned skin and showing her the myriad colors—deep greens, russet browns and flecks of gold—that made up the hazel of his eyes. She saw truth in those eyes, saw how sincerely he wanted to get through to her, to keep her near, and convince her that he understood what he was saying. His earnest expression and her own fervent hopes melted away the last of her desire to flee. Although she still wasn’t convinced that staying was the wisest choice, not with her emotions running so dangerously close to the surface, she gave a small nod of acquiescence and allowed him to steer her gently in the direction of the nearest tree, dry needles and leaves crunching underfoot with each step. Once there, he waited for her to take a seat on one of the broad roots that extended from the base of a towering pepperwood, then moved around to sit down beside her, hitching one leg up so that he could face in her direction. Taking one of her trembling hands in his, he lifted it to his lips and brushed a kiss across her knuckles, then lowered their joined hands to rest on his bent knee. 

“I love you, Leia,” he said without preamble. “Hang on to that, because it’s a _fact,_ and it needs to outweigh any other non-facts that may be swooping around in your head right now.” He paused and scanned her face, as if seeking to read her thoughts. “And, like I said, you seem to be mixing two different issues together and seeing them as one big problem.” 

Leia tilted her head in acknowledgement. As usual, Han’s powers of perception were sharp, and he had a way of over-simplifying matters that nevertheless made them easier to contemplate. She recognized that he was right; she was conflating two separate things. “The issue of who my real father was,” she murmured, “and the issue of how it will affect...you and me.” 

“Exactly,” he nodded. “And the first one...well, no two ways about it, that first one is a bitch. Of all the men in the galaxy it could have been….” His voice trailed off. “It’s hard luck.” 

Despite herself, Leia gave a short, humorless laugh. _Hard luck!_ That was putting it mildly, indeed. She stared at Han, marveling at how he could reduce such a thorny, complex issue down to such basic terms. Unlike Leia herself, Han seldom ruminated over the minutiae of any situation. Instead, he cut straight to the chase, preferring to strike directly at the heart of a matter, rather than waste time skirting around the perimeter. It was in his nature to make quick decisions—his career as a smuggler had required that skill, and it was an ability that also served him well as a military leader in the Alliance. It was one of the characteristics she found so exasperating about him, but it was also one of the things she loved the most. She supposed it was only natural that he would apply the same approach to something like this, too. 

“The second thing,” Han continued, giving her hand a light squeeze. “This business of how it’ll affect _us._ Well, that’s something I _can_ do something about, Sweetheart. Because I can tell you right now that this changes nothing for me. Not a damn thing.” He held up a warning finger when she opened her mouth to reply. “I know what I’m saying.” 

Leia felt a rush of deep love for him— _and_ his peremptory interjections—although a strong undercurrent of sadness still threatened to pull her under. She certainly didn’t wish to change his mind, but she needed to know that he’d at least thought about the implications, that he wouldn’t look at her someday, a month or a year down the line, and see _Darth Vader’s daughter_ instead of Leia herself. She shuddered at the thought, but persevered with her response. 

“How can it not change things for you, Han?” she asked softly. “He was a monster. Inhuman and evil, responsible for the slaughter and enslavement of millions. You suffered at his hands yourself. You were tortured, used as a test subject, and lost six months of your life because of him. When you look at me now, you must see—”

“I see _you,”_ Han interrupted vehemently. “I see someone I _trust,_ Leia.” His hand gripped hers tightly and he leaned towards her. “You know I don’t have many people like that in my life, but you are right up there at the top. And that’s not gonna change, no matter who your father was. Or your mother either,” he added. “I know _you,_ and I know what you mean to me, and that’s all that counts.” 

Leia drew a shaky breath and lowered her gaze to study their joined hands. Putting her thoughts into words without sounding pitiful was proving to be an immense struggle, but she felt compelled to try. 

“I don’t know how you can be so...accepting of the fact that—.” She stopped short, choking on the words; she couldn’t bring herself to say it aloud a second time. _“I_ can’t even accept it. Don’t you feel angry? It must make you feel sick—”

 _“No.”_ The intensity of Han’s terse response made her glance up at him again, and she saw the blaze of strong conviction in his eyes. “I don’t think like that. I don’t believe for a second that your biology has anything to do with who you are as a person. You were raised with love, by people who taught you right from wrong. _That_ and the choices you’ve made along the way are what made you who you are, not genetics. You can’t inherit evil, Leia, and if you ever had it in you to turn, like you say Vader turned, you’d have done it years ago, when they blew Alderaan to dust.” 

Even as the bare truth of his words penetrated the fog of worry in her mind, their bluntness provoked a flinch that Leia was powerless to disguise. Reflexively, her free hand clutched against the gnarled root of the tree, the rough bark biting into her fingers as she dug her nails in deeply. Acutely aware of her distress, Han’s fingers tightened around the hand he held in silent support. She closed her eyes, remembering. From the moment Vader’s flagship had intercepted her corvette above Tatooine, she’d been presented with one reason after another to give in to rage and loathing, but none of those reasons had been more powerful than that life-altering moment aboard the Death Star, when she’d been a helpless witness to the obliteration of two billion people, including her parents—her _true_ parents, she thought fiercely—all with the flick of a switch, at the behest of a madman. As Han had astutely pointed out, if she were inclined to succumb to the lure of anger and hatred, she’d have done it then. The truth of his insightful observations reached the fear buried deep in her heart, the fear that she had yet to fully confront.

“Wanna know what _does_ make me sick?” Han queried in a quieter voice, absently rubbing a thumb over the back of her knuckles in a soothing motion. 

Leia opened her eyes and looked at him, startled by his return to her earlier remark, and filled with sudden apprehension at what he might say. 

“What makes me sick,” he continued, his eyes locked onto hers, “is the thought of you ripping yourself to shreds for two days, because you were worried about telling _me_ this. The idea of you thinking I’d just...be _done_ with you, that I’d just head for open space and never look back.” 

Leia started to protest but he silenced her with a shake of his head.

“I’m not blaming you, Princess. Before we left Hoth, I told you often enough that I was gonna leave. I told you that for a couple of years, trying to work up the guts to actually do it.” 

“You had good reasons…” she began. 

“Yeah, well, those reasons are dust now,” he said bluntly. “The point is, I know I’m the one who put that doubt in your eyes, Sweetheart, and I’m sorry for it. You’ve got enough to worry about, without wondering if I’m gonna let you down.” He lifted a hand to cradle her face and gently caressed her cheek with his thumb. “I wish I could wipe out your doubts with a promise, Leia, but I know the only thing that’s gonna fix that is time. So for now, can you just take my word for it when I tell you, this changes nothing for me?” 

Any remaining uncertainty Leia harbored was erased in the wake of Han’s quiet entreaty. His voice was thick with emotion, and there was no mistaking the sincerity and tender affection in his eyes. She’d hoped so fervently to hear him say those very things, and she felt so relieved and reassured now that he’d said them, she couldn’t even formulate a verbal response. Instead, she simply nodded and stood up, then turned towards him, scuffing her boots in the decomposing plant litter at her feet, and allowed him to draw her gently between his knees. She slipped her arms around his shoulders and buried her face against his neck as he wrapped her in a close embrace. He felt so _real_ and _warm_ and _alive;_ she took a moment to breathe him in, to bury her fingers in his thick hair. He’d been gone for so long, and back at her side for such a short period of time, sometimes his presence felt like a dream. 

“That black-hearted bastard has already taken too much from you, Leia,” Han murmured into her ear. “He’s taken a good-sized chunk outta me, too. But he’s not gonna take _this.”_ He tightened his arms around her. “He’s got nothing to do with you and me."

Leia tried to draw a breath to answer him, but found herself choking on a sob that took her by surprise. Her breath hitched in her throat as she pressed her face against his neck and dug her fingers into his shoulders, wrestling for self-control. 

“Ah, Sweetheart….” The tenderness in Han’s rumbling voice triggered another involuntary sob—and then she was lost, crying like a forlorn child, unable to stifle her convulsive breathing or stem the flow of tears that spilled down her cheeks. Han held her even closer and buried his face in her hair, murmuring a string of soothing words and sounds that she could barely hear above her own ragged weeping. He slipped one hand up to the nape of her neck, his warm fingers stroking the skin there in a soothing, repetitive motion, his thumb rubbing against her trembling jaw. “I know, Leia,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to her temple. “It’s alright." 

The last time she’d sobbed so uncontrollably had been a few months after the Battle of Yavin, when Han had sought her out, drawn her aside and casually pressed a small object into her palm, something he said he’d picked up in a far-flung marketplace on his latest supply run. Opening her hand, Leia had found herself staring in disbelief at a tiny reminder of her lost world. Barely half the size of her palm and cleverly constructed from dark Alderaani kriin-wood inlaid with oro, the seams of the tiny box were designed to fit together invisibly, requiring its owner to learn and memorize its unique steps to open. The gift of such an item was a rite of passage for Alderaani girls, meant as a vessel to symbolically hold the young girl’s hopes and wishes. Leia had owned one similar, long before the loss of her home world. In the wake of Alderaan’s destruction, too shocked to absorb the reality or to feel much of anything, Leia had thrown herself headlong into her work with the Alliance, focusing all of her energies on removing those responsible from power. But with that poignant reminder in the palm of her hand, she’d finally felt the first, breathtaking lance of pain through her gut, and it had taken a mighty effort merely to thank Han for the gift and flee his presence. Although she’d made it back to her private quarters with her composure intact, she’d spent the remainder of that night crumpled on the floor next to her bunk, crying her heart out for her father and mother, and the only home she’d ever known. 

Now, as she began to regain control of her breathing and her tears subsided, Leia realized that the pain she felt over discovering her relationship to Vader was an extension of that profound loss, a devastation from which she thought she would never fully recover. The already abhorrent event was somehow rendered even _more_ horrible now that she knew she’d witnessed Alderaan’s destruction with the black-gloved hand of her own father clamped on her shoulder, holding her in place. The memory of his evil presence and the malice in his touch sent an involuntary shudder through her body. 

“You cold?” Misreading her shiver, Han bent his head down to peer into her face. With him seated on the mammoth tree root, their height difference was negligible. “Wanna head back to the _Falcon?_ ” 

Leia was still huddled against him, taking refuge in his comforting embrace as the hateful memories bombarded her mind. She shook her head in response to his question, realizing as she did so that the shoulder of his shirt was thoroughly damp with her tears. As little as a year ago, she reflected, she would have been utterly mortified at such a loss of self-control in front of Han—or anyone else, for that matter. But things had changed so much since then, and she recognized with sudden clarity that she trusted Han completely, not just with her life—which he’d guarded for years and saved more than once—but with everything else. 

Still, she noted with a touch of embarrassment, she’d made a mess of his clean shirt. Swiping at her eyes with her fingertips and the back of her hand, she lifted her head at last and looked at him. “I’m sorry, Han,” she said shakily. “I can hardly stand to think about it. It’s just so...so…” 

_Disgusting._

_Foul._

_Appalling._

“Unfair,” she managed to choke out, realizing as soon as the word left her mouth that it sounded like a child’s lament—and it was woefully inadequate to express her feelings. 

Han gave a soft snort. “That’s one way to put it,” he agreed. He quirked a sad smile at her and reached to wipe the last of the tears from her cheeks, then smoothed back strands of hair that had escaped from her loose braid. “Look, I know it’s bad...” he began. 

“Worse than bad,” Leia corrected softly, pressing her forehead against his and closing her eyes. She curled her fingers into the fringe of hair at the back of his neck and released a shuddering sigh, concentrating on the soothing motion of his hand now stroking slowly up and down her back. 

“Okay, worse than bad,” he agreed, “but at least he’s _dead,_ right? That’s one thing. _And,”_ he added in a brighter tone, “you’re not _alone_ in having the second-worst-possible father in the galaxy—you’ve got a brother to share the misery.” His voice still held a note of wonder in it, as if he still couldn’t quite believe what he was saying. “And we know _Luke_ ain’t evil.” 

Leia lifted her head with a look of disbelief at his crude attempt to lighten the mood, though she couldn’t quite suppress the urge to smile. “Since when did you start looking at the bright side? You sound like _him,”_ she remarked, shaking her head. 

“How’s he handling all of this, anyway?” Han shifted his seat on the tree root and patted his own thigh, inviting her to sit. She complied and, once she was settled and leaning against him, Han wrapped his arms loosely around her once more. “I haven’t had much chance to really talk to him since I got back, but he seems calm—almost _peaceful._ I suppose that’s something to do with this business of becoming a Jedi?” 

“That’s part of it, I’m sure,” Leia agreed, then rested her head on his damp shoulder. She drew another shuddering breath and expelled it slowly, feeling calmer with every minute she spent in his embrace. “But probably also because it’s not news to him. Luke has known for a while.” 

Han gave a low chuff of surprise. “Since when, exactly?” he asked. “He didn’t know it on Hoth. I’d lay bets on that.” 

“No,” Leia said. “He learned it from Vader himself, on Bespin.” 

Han nodded as if that confirmed what he’d already surmised. Then he craned his neck around to peer down at her, his expression darkening. “Wait, he knew about this over _six months ago_ and he didn’t tell you?” 

Leia discerned the source of his misapprehension and flashed him a faint smile. “He only knew about his _own_ relationship with Vader—he found that out when they clashed in Cloud City—but he didn’t know he had a sister until very recently. He says even Vader didn’t know, until the very end of his life.” 

Han was silent for a moment, musing over her words, and then looked down at her again, a confused frown creasing his face. “If Vader didn’t know about you...how did Luke find out?” 

Leia realized then that the conversation was likely to venture into territory where Han would be reluctant to follow. She sighed. “Well, _that_ part of the story involves the Force,” she said dryly, straightening up to look at him more directly. “Are you sure you want me to explain how Luke used his magical powers to get details about our origins?” 

A somewhat pained expression crossed Han’s face. “Maybe some other time.” 

“That’s what I thought. Let’s just say that he has it on very good authority.” She thought about the moment when Luke had first said the word _sister_ to her, and how it had felt like a key tumbling a lock buried deep inside her mind. “And anyway,” she said in a contemplative tone, “we can both _sense_ that it’s true.” She’d spoken those last words without considering her audience, realizing only when she felt Han’s body tense that she’d said anything significant. 

He leaned back slightly and looked her up and down, a wary half-smile on his face. “Uh, does that mean you’re gonna start seeing ‘mystical energy fields’ everywhere and waving a lightsaber around?” 

“I think I’ll leave most of that to Luke.” Leia said with a light laugh. “But, yes, there seems to be some of that ability in me, as well.” 

“I may need a drink.” 

Leia snorted softly. “I know _I_ do. And all of a sudden I’m _starving.”_

“Me, too,” Han agreed readily. “Lucky for us, I’m always thinkin’ ahead.” He nodded towards the edge of the precipice, indicating the bulging pack he’d set down on the rocky ledge. “I brought a little something to share. And there’s a bottle of Corellian wine in there with your name on it, Princess.” He winked at her. 

Smiling, Leia lifted a hand to his jaw and guided his mouth to hers. His arms tightened around her as their lips met and they shared a tender, lingering kiss. “That sounds like the best idea you’ve ever had,” she murmured when they parted. 

Sliding from his lap, she took his proffered hand as he rose to his feet beside her. They walked hand-in-hand, the crisp rustle of fallen leaves underfoot giving way to the grinding crunch of loose shale as they made their way back from the tree line to the edge of the steep crag. Once there, they stood for a moment, taking in the natural beauty of Endor at dusk. Han settled one arm across her shoulders, drawing her close, and Leia relaxed against him, sliding her arm around his waist. 

The last rays of sunlight cast an amber glow over the dense forest below, as the setting sun retreated behind the distant rocky peaks, tugging a blanket of darkness behind it. As they watched, a distant pair of T-65 starfighters crossed the skyline, angling towards one of the many landing platforms dotted throughout the forest. With the end of another long day in sight, many Alliance personnel would be completing their shifts of duty and heading back to base for some well-deserved rest. Overhead, the suspended remains of the Death Star began to fade from view, overtaken by pinpoints of starlight that were appearing in increasing numbers in the indigo sky. As the final golden sliver of sun winked and disappeared, Leia felt a sense of peace and calm she hadn’t experienced in days. All of the anxious tension she’d been feeling since before the battle seemed to have drained away with her cathartic tears. 

She cast a sidelong glance up at Han, admiring his handsome profile as a gust of cool, pine-scented breeze flowed up from the dell below, ruffling his hair and clothes. She felt immeasurably lighter, as though a tremendous burden had been lifted. Indeed, she reflected, more than one worry had been erased from her mind as a consequence of their conversation, not least of all the uncertainty of her future with Han. Their relationship had changed dramatically and irrevocably during the slow journey from Hoth to Bespin, but her decision to take that final step had been underpinned by the knowledge that it was likely to be a short-lived affair. With a steep bounty on his head, and recognizing the growing danger it posed not only to himself but also to his friends, Han had been unable to commit to Leia for longer than the duration of the trip, or to make any promises about his eventual return once he’d settled his debts. She’d felt certain that the elimination of Jabba the Hutt—and the bounty he’d placed on Han’s head—would change their personal circumstances for the better, but it was nevertheless gratifying to hear Han confirm his intentions in no uncertain terms. 

Furthermore, she had purged her darkest secret to Han, and he hadn’t turned away; in fact, he’d made it abundantly clear that his devotion was absolute and unconditional. And although the knowledge of her true paternity remained deeply disturbing, knowing that she could rely on Han’s support as she grappled with it was an enormous comfort. The entire experience left her feeling full of hope and optimism for their future, but drained and deeply fatigued, as though she could sleep for days. Giving in to her weariness, she allowed herself to sag against Han, leaning almost all of her weight against his side. 

“You goin’ weak in the knees, Sweetheart?” he rumbled, looking down at her with an amused glint in his eye. “Here, let me give you good reason.” Turning, his slipped his other arm around her and pulled her close, then dipped his head down to capture her mouth with a kiss. The slow, warm touch of his lips ignited a fire deep in Leia’s core, and she found herself stretching up, sliding her arms around his neck and pressing herself against him ardently, encouraging his tender kisses to turn more passionate. As she opened her lips to the touch of his tongue, she curled her fingers through his thick hair and gave herself up completely to the sheer pleasure of being loved and wanted. After so long apart and with all her uncertainties laid to rest, it felt wonderful to know for sure that he was _hers,_ and he was here to stay. 

A moment later, over the rising, rhythmic drone of nocturnal insects and the sough of the wind in the trees, Leia heard the faint but very distinct sound of her own stomach growling. Evidently, Han heard it, too. He broke the kiss, loosened his embrace and gazed down at her with a rueful smirk. 

“And I thought it was my charms making you swoon, Princess.” He nodded down to the pack of provisions at their feet. “I’d better feed you before you faint.” 

Leia rolled her eyes at that absurd notion, but released him and took a step back as she watched him swivel and crouch down beside the pack he’d brought. He yanked at the cinched cord to open the heavy canvas bag, then extracted from the top of it a threadbare blanket she recognized from one of the _Falcon_ ’s spare bunks. He handed it to Leia before reaching back into the pack for the next item. Leia unfurled the thin cloth and then folded it twice, making a square that would serve as a makeshift table for whatever food he’d brought along. As she looked down to find a suitable place to lay it, her eyes fell upon the white geometric shapes Han had drawn on the flat rock earlier. Too distracted by her own worries at the time, she hadn’t given the marks more than a glance. Now, with the last light of the setting sun glinting across the surface, she became aware that the lines formed three recognizable Aurebesh characters. She felt her eyebrows climb to her hairline as she realized what he’d written. 

_“Herf, xesh, leth,”_ she recited the names of the characters under her breath, and then turned to stare at Han in wonder. He’d just extracted the promised bottle of wine and set it down on the ground beside him, and was now rummaging around in the pack for something else. 

“What?” he queried, glancing up. 

“ _‘Han loves Leia’_ ,” she quoted, tilting her head down at the crude markings on the rock. The configuration of characters was the sort of thing universally recognized as the indulgence of someone hopelessly lost in romantic sentiment. She’d scribbled that sort of thing once or twice herself, she admitted privately— _when she was twelve._ She smirked at him, shaking her head. 

He flashed her a lopsided grin, the white of his teeth gleaming in the fading twilight. “Written in stone, Sweetheart.” With a small flourish, he produced a bottle opener from the depths of the pack and set it down beside the wine before dipping back into the bag for more. 

Leia rolled her eyes at the bad pun, but the sentiment behind it filled her with a warm glow. Still, she couldn’t resist the opportunity to tease him. She fixed him with an assessing look. “And to think you had me fooled for so long,” she mused aloud. “It must be terribly hard work, sauntering around with that blaster on your hip, looking dark and dangerous, when all the while you’re secretly... _mushy._ Has anyone else figured this out?” 

“Nope,” he admitted cheerfully, then seemed to reconsider. “Well, Chewie’s probably onto me by now, but otherwise, it’s our little secret.” He gestured at the blanket she still held in her hands and shot her a mock scowl. “Now stop giving me a hard time and lay the table.” 

She complied by lightly snapping the square of cloth out and spreading it flat on the bare rock, being careful to avoid covering the incriminating marks. Still trying to keep a straight face, although the impulse to break into girlish giggles was strong, she sat down on the rock beside him and accepted the food items he handed to her from the bag, arranging them on the blanket. As he busied himself opening the wine, she reached down and traced the Aurebesh characters with her fingers, unable to contain the smile that played on her lips. 

_“Mushy,”_ Han chided, then flashed her a grin. “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet, Princess.” 

“Oh?” 

“Yeah,” he smirked. Setting the bottle aside, he reached for a loose piece of shale. He tossed it in the air and caught it in his palm, then gave her a wink. “Watch this.” 

As Leia watched, he placed the edge of the shard against the rock, just under where the three characters were etched. Then, in a fluid motion, he drew the universal sign for _infinity._

“Oh, stop!” Leia laughed. “You’re just trying to seduce me, now.” 

He cocked his head up at her and raised an eyebrow. “Is it working?” 

“Maybe…,” she allowed. “That infinity sign _is_ intriguing.” She held his gaze, feeling a flush of pleasure at the way he was looking back at her. “But forever’s a long time, you know.” 

“Yeah,” Han replied, giving her a thoughtful smile. “I know.” 

-:¦:--:¦:--:¦:-

**The End**


End file.
